Why Me?
by AlphaMale45
Summary: You can't put a soul back into a body. Right? He thought so, but when the Ideal Masters want him, what length will his closest person do to save him, and why is he still haunted by his past? Follow our favorite hero as he fights to save a land that once hated him and his beloved. Dragonborn/Serana not Skyrim Twilight. Adventure/Romance. New summary.
1. Home Sweet Lonely Home

** Hey guys! How's it hangin'? Sooooo, yeah this is my first story, sooooooo… DON'T HOLD BACK! That's right, I want all the flames, criticisms, and awesome lengthy reviews you guys can dish out. It's the only thing that will make me better at writing this story, so "Just Lose It'! Yeah, bad quote…**

** Anyway, the summary of the story basically tells you everything you need to know about who's in the story, but if you haven't at least played the Dawngaurd expansion pack, I don't recommend this story for you. Either way, the main character, our awesome Dragonborn, Rorrik, is NOT a vampire! This is NOT a Skyrim version of Twilight, and at this point, he IS a werewolf of badass proportions. And an amazing swordsman. And that's the end of this ridiculously long AN.**

** Oh yeah, I do not own anything but a Skyrim: Legendary Edition hard copy. And the Plot. And my character. Lets go.**

**Chapter One: Home Sweet Lonely Home**

"Fus... Ro DA!" Rorrik Shouted at the seemingly brittle looking Draugr, but they only slammed into the wall, instead of bones flying everywhere. One disintegrated on contact with the massive wave of pure kinetic force. He quickly ran up to the first, a deathlord, and ran it through with his Deadric sword. As it was dying, it burst into flames. The remaining three, scourges, conjured ice atronachs, and began attacking.

Rorrik deflected the blows of the draugr with his sword, and rammed the shoulder of his Daedric armor through ones chest, extinguishing the life from it. One of the atronachs disappeared, but one of the remaining two smacked him in the back, winding him, he turned around and sliced it in half, pulled out a steel dagger, and through it at the head of one of the draugr, killing it and dispersing the remaining atronach, he then turned to the last draugr and and cut his head off.

Rorrik sighed, and sheathed his sword and walked up to the Word Wall, a Word of Power glowing. His vision blurred, and he felt a new power flowing through him. He new what it was. The last word of Kyne's Peace, the last Shout he had to learn from the Word Walls in the province of Skyrim, and even Solstheim. He unlock the knowledge of a dragon soul to learn the Word. He felt... content. He learned all the Words that could be used in combat. He checked the chest at the base of the steps, but nothing useful was inside, so he took the coin bags that were around it and headed for the trap door that was always there.

When he emerged from Shroud Hearths Barrow, he immediately started the trek back to his home at Lakeview Manor, close to Falkreath. He had to round the Throat of the World. To get there, but it was a trek he was used to. He made the trip to the Dawngaurd Fort often, mostly to visit someone... 'special' to him. It took a couple of hours, but he arrived at the front door of his massive home.

He immediately went to the second floor of his main hall, placed his sword inside his display case, and his armor on the mannequin. Once he had his armor off, he walked into the west wing of the house, which he used as a bedroom, and looked at himself in this special reflective glass he bought off of a khajhit merchant called a mirror. His dace was not unattractive, with his stone set jaw, his low brows, and middle level cheekbones. The most noted feature of him face was the large scar on his forehead that ran diagonally across it that he received in his first battle with Alduin. He always wore a helm after wards.

Like most Nords, he was broad chested, and tall. He had another scar on his chest, from when he fought Miraak. One of his vines had trapped him, and Miraak cut through his chest plate, leaving him with ruined armor, and a large gash. With magic not being a large part of his repertoire, he could not heal himself of these scars.

He walked away from the mirror to dress in a simple white wool tunic, and brown wool breeches, with a set of worn leather boots. Rorrik was about to head outside to begin working on the north wing of the house, which would be a storeroom for his massive troves of treasure and weapons he had acquired over his journeys, when his stomach made a noise of protest.

'Damn, I haven't eaten in hours. I hope there is some bread left.' he thought. Rorrik walked to the east wing kitchen of his home, and found some bread along with a pot of honey. He took a bite of the bread, and felt as if a tooth would break off.

'That's right, I haven't seen this place in two months. Guess I'll have to bake some.' He took out the ingredients needed for making the dough, and set out to mixing them together. He then left it to rise, and decided to light the scones in his home, as it was fairly dark in the building. When that was accomplished, Rorrik went out to the gardens around his house, and found the potatoes he had planted right before he left, and found them completely grown, and ready to be harvested. He did so, and decided to make a potato soup to go with the bread. As he was adding spices to the soup as it came to a steady boil in the pot, he checked the dough. It was ready to bake. He slid it into the oven and watched it get brown.

When the bread was finished, he took it out of the oven. He suddenly got the craving for meat, so he pulled the pot further from the fire to slow its cooking. Rorrik grabbed his simple hunting bow, and went to track a rabbit he knew that lived around his home. As he approached the road below his home, close to the lake, he spotted the rabbit, he quickly crouched and notched an arrow. He then slowly let out a breath and released his arrow, piercing the rabbit through the chest, killing it instantly. He took out an iron dagger and began skinning the rabbit where he killed it, all the while thanking the rabbit for the meal he would provide him. The lessons of the Skaal on the 'One-ness' of life stuck with him, at least the part that animals should not be killed for sport, but only for providing what is needed.

When he was done, he buried the scraps left from the skinning, to keep away the wolves, and started back to his home. Rorrik, when he arrived back to his kitchen, sliced up the rabbit meat and put it in the soup, then slid the pot closer to the fire to finish cooking it.

After about twenty minutes, Rorrik's dinner was ready. He sat at his table and began to eat. When he was finished, there was a soft knock on the door, which if not for his... 'special side', he would not have heard it. He got up, and walked to the door and opened it slightly. He then threw it open, startled at who it was.

"Serana! What are you doing here?" Rorrik said, surprised.

"Oh, nothing. Just decided to visit my friend at his home, instead of vice-versa. Why? Am I not welcome here?" Serana said playfully.

"No, it's just I didn't expect you to be here. I just got home a few hours ago, and was not expecting company."

"Oh? Well... its quite lovely. Kind of... large for one person, don't you think?" Serana said while looking around.

"Yeah. 'Home sweet lonely home', I like to say," Rorrik said, with a small chuckle. "So, to what honor do I owe to your visit, oh great vampire princess?" he said sarcastically.

"Oh, I don't know, how about you cut your hair? Its getting a little long." He ran his hand through the dark stubble on his head. His hair couldn't get any shorter unless he was bald. "But, seriously, we have to talk," she said, a rare tone of complete seriousness in his voice.

"What's wrong, Serana? What happened?" Rorrik said with worry.

"It's about me... us... I'm... I... I think i-" Serana was cut off by a crashing noise outside. She and Rorrik ran outside to see what it was. When they got outside, Odahviing was on the ground looking at them.

"Dovahkiin, come quick! There is danger in Whiterun Hold! Someone is building an army of bein, foul, draugr, so much so as to Ag, to burn, Skyrim to nothing but ash!"

Chapter End

**So? How'd i do? Please R&R! And remember, DON'T HOLD BACK! Alpha out.**


	2. The Makings of the End

** Hey all. Thanks for being back for more. This one got up quick 'cause the story needs more ground for working on, and for reviewing, and I wanted to get this out quick cause it was painful to write because it suuuuuucks. But I can't help it. It had to happen.**

******Oh yeah, I do not own anything but a Skyrim: Legendary Edition hard copy. And the Plot. And my character. Lets go.**

Chapter 2: The Makings of the End

Rorrik had ran inside to grab his armor and weapons, and was back outside and on Odahviing's neck in a flash. He guestured to Serana to get up on his neck as well.

"I... would rather walk. It seems more comfortable," she said hesitantly.

"Come on Serana! We have to leave!" She stood there for a moment, then reluctantly started towards the dragon. She reached for his hand, and he took hold of it and swung her over Odahviing's neck in front of him.

"Hold on, Dovahkiin!" yelled the massive dragon. He took off with his powerful wings. Rorrik slipped his left arm around Serana's waist to keep her balanced, and the other on Odahviing's right horn. Serana jumped at first, and was about to throw his arm off, but looked down, and decided against it, seeing the necessity.

As Odahviing flew at amazing speeds toward Whiterun, Rorrik said to Serana,

"So what was it you wanted to talk about earlier? It sounded very important."

"It can wait. This draugr threat comes first," she said back.

"Are you sure?"

"Very."

They were silent after that, until Odahviing flew close enough for his passengers could see the masses of undead, all in giant circles facing inwards. There had to be hundreds, if not into the thousands, in the fields outside Whiterun.

"By the Nine..." muttered Serana. "There's so many, to many to kill."

"Wait, Odahviing, get us closer to those pillars of light," said Rorrik, pointing to growing spires of black light near the centers of the masses of draugr. As they got closer, Rorrik put Seranas hands on Odahviing's horns, and raised himself onto his feet on the dragon's neck. He yell,

"Get close to the ground, Odahviing!" The dragon did as he was told, and when he got a few yards above the ground, Rorrik jumped off, and rolled when he hit the ground to soften his fall. As soon as he was on his feet, his blade was cutting a path through the draugr, all who seemed weak.

After a few moments, he noticed that the draugr weren't fighting back. Instead, they were all staring at the pillar of light in front of them.

"What in the name of Oblivion?" he said out loud. The draugr around him kept looking forward. He started to trot toward the center of the mass to find out what was going on. As he approached the light, he saw eight figures around it, in black hooded cloaks. As he got a little closer, he heard chanting, but couldn't make out the words.

Once he got within twenty yards of the light, the draugr mass stopped abruptly. Rorrik hesitated for a moment, before continuing forward, sword still at the ready. When he got within five yards of the cloaked figures, he could make out the words, they were speaking in dragon language!

If only, the Greybeards were here, then he could find out what they were saying. Suddenly, they stopped. The one closest to him, with his back to Rorrik, stood. He then turned around. His face was hidden by his hood. He then spoke in a low, serene voice.

"So, the Dragonborn has decided to arrive. Finally. Now, my good friends, lets give our guest a proper welcome," as he said this, about twenty to thirty draugr surrounded Rorrik. He raised his sword to fight.

"Hold on, good Dragonborn. Do you see the light behind me? It is a spell infused with the Thu'um, and its one purpose is to empower the draugr back to their strongest state," the draugr started to make weird noises and movements. Rorrik was utterly speechless by what he saw next. There was skin forming around the draugr.

"The strongest state of the draugr was when they were among the living. So, this spell is designed to return living souls to their bodies and repair the bodies. It took a large price though. The souls had to come from the Soul Cairn, meaning we had to make a deal with the Ideal Masters. Their price was... your soul."

Rorrik did not give himself time to react as he charged the closest... Nord... he hesitated for a second, and that gave the Nord time to use the Unrelenting Force Shout on him, flinging him backwards. He was barely able to roll out of the way as another Nord stabbed at him when he landed. He quickly jumped up and was blasted back down by another Shout, and this time could not fully avoid the attack, and was nicked on the side of his armor, but the Nord's blade sliced through his armor like a hot knife to butter.

He again jumped up and avoided the next Shout, thus clearing a path for him to run through. As he continued down the path, he Shouted himself creating a clear path through the... Nords. Once he reached open space, he called for Odahviing.

When Odahviing landed, Rorrik vaulted onto his neck, and again wrapped an arm around Serana, and placed one on a horn, and they were off again.

**Chapter End**

** Hey, yeah, not to proud of this one. It was too rushed, but this is important to the continuation of the story and had to happen fast, as to give not give Rorrik time to think, until later. Again thanks for reading. R&R. Alpha out.**


	3. What in Oblivion?

** Hey... Guys... How's it going...? Yeah, don't kill me about last chapter... I know it suuucked terribly. BUT... hopefully this one is better. Oh yeah, there will be a new OC in this chapter. I kinda like her. She doesn't speak much, though.**

****** Oh yeah, I do not own anything but a Skyrim: Legendary Edition hard copy. And the Plot. And my characters. Lets go.**

Chapter 3: What in Oblivion?

"We need to talk to Balgruuf about this. We have to come up with a plan," said Rorrik.

"Good idea. He should have an idea about how to take this on," replied Serana.

As they flew the quick flight to Whiterun, Rorrik was deep in thought. 'How is this possible? You can't bring back someones soul! It's impossible!' He knew this so very well...

_Flashback_

_ "Arngreir!" Rorrik slammed through the doors of High Hrothgar, with tears streaming down his face, a very notable sense of distress in his voice, and a body in his arms. "Arngreir! Where are you?!" he yelled, starting to sound hysteric._

_ "Dragonborn? What is it? Whats wrong?" Arngreir came swiftly out of the Greybeard's living quarters, worry in his voice. He noticed the body in Rorriks arms. He motioned for him to place it in the center of the floor in the main chamber._

_ After studying the body for a few minutes, Arngreir simply sighed and shook his head. "There's nothing I can do, Dragonborn. She is dead."_

_ "There has to be something!" Rorrik said frantically. "Can't you put her soul back in? I was able to store it in a soul gem!" He pulled out a large black soul gem that was glowing slightly._

_ "Dragonborn! To think that is blasphemous! If I could even do such a thing, I would not do so! If she died, then it is the will of the gods, and I will not go against it." said Arngreir, slightly angered at the actions of Rorrik. "Why is she so special to you that would make you attempt something so blasphemous?"_

_ "She is my wife, you old bastard!" he said with venom._

_ "Then I am truly sorry, Dragonborn, but there is nothing I can do. It is impossible to set a soul back into a body. Once the soul is removed from a body, from death or other means, the only physical object it can inhabit is a soul gem. I would suggest you release the soul of your wife, and let her move on." Arngreir said, a look of sorrow on his face._

_ "No," he whispered. "There has to be something, Arngreir, something!" Rorrik's voice rose in at the end. Arngreir only kept walking back to the living quarters. He stopped suddenly, and said,_

_ "Again, Dragonborn, I am sorry, but she is gone. Accept this and move on. It is the will of the gods."_

_End Flashback_

"... ik... rrik... Rorrik!" he heard Serana say.

"Wha? Oh, sorry, I was... distracted. What is it?" he said distantly.

"We're here," she said, sliding off of Odahviing's neck. Rorrik slid down after her.

After walking through the gates of the city, they were stopped by two guards. "Halt! The city is on lock down! Have you not seen the massive army outside our walls?"

"Oh, yeah, that. We kind of wanted to see the Jarl about that, if you wouldn't mind?" said Serana, with a 'hint' of sarcasm in her voice.

"What was that, you little witch?" said one guard.

Rorrik decided to butt in before this could continue. "Hey, Gerrell, we need to talk to the Jarl, just let us through," he said.

"Oh, Dragonborn, I didn't notice it was you. I'm terribly sorry, go on ahead," the guard, Gerrell, said. With that, Serana and Rorrik took off towards Dragonsreach at a jog. Upon reaching the doors of the keep, the two guards at the door recognized Rorrik this time, and swiftly opened the door. As they entered, Serana gave a sigh of relief.

"Finally, out of the sunlight. Shadows feel so good!" Serana whispered at a level only Rorrik could hear. Rorrik understood. Nords generally didn't tolerate vampires. As they got closer to the throne , the two companions heard Balgruuf say,

"Dragonborn! Do you have any idea what is going on? There are hundreds of draugr outside my walls!"

"Well, its a little troubling, and a bit on the impossible side of things..."

So Rorrik retold what had happened, with the revived Nords, the mages who knew the dragon language, and the part about the Ideal Masters and there price.

"By the Nine..." muttered Balgruuf. "Alright men! Prepare the city for a siege! This is shaping up to be one. Get men on the battlements, reinforce the walls, send out scouts to get information on this army, send messengers to the other holds! We will need reinforcements!"

As the Jarl was handing out orders, Serana turned to Rorrik and said, "If the Ideal Masters want your soul, then this will be a dangerous time for you. This is so troubling... I need to speak with my mother about this." Serana had been able to bring her mother back from the Soul Cairn a few months after dealing with her father.

"Will she know something about this?" replied Rorrik.

"Hopefully. She is the most experienced necromancer I know... well, you know, besides those mages. They seem pretty good at what they do." Serana said back. "They are reviving the dead back to their old selves." she said dryly.

"Alright then, lets give her a visit." Rorrik said.

"No. I will go myself. Your needed here. Help them prepare. From what I saw, and what you described, Skyrim doesn't stand a chance without you on the front lines." she said with a bit of force behind her words.

"Are you sure?" he knew she was right, but he didn't want to leave her side. He always had to force himself to leave her.

"Yes, I'm sure." she stated.

"Alright. Oh, wait. You were talking about something important sounding back at my home. What was it?" he said.

"It can wait a little longer. I'll talk to you about it after I get back from talking to my mother. Until then..." her voice softened at the end of her sentence. She then reached her head towards his and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodbye," and with that, she turned around and left.

**Hey, I hope you liked this one better than the last. I through in the bit of sappy stuff at the end to keep the romantics involved. Yeah these chapters are coming fast and furious... mostly cause my leg is broken, and i got nothing else i can do at the moment... yeah. Anyway, expect another soon, and as always R&R please! It's the only way i can get better at writing, and this story will get better. Alpha out.**


	4. War and Other Eccentrics

**Hey guys how it goin? I've just updated this AN on 8-8-13. I've finally gotten 2, count it 2, reviews! YAY!... But can i get some more please? Either way, this one is gonna be the longest chapter yet, hopefully between 3k and 5k words, maybe longer. There will be more back story to Rorrik's past. So... enjoy... please...**

******Oh yeah, I do not own anything but a Skyrim: Legendary Edition hard copy. And the Plot. And my character. Lets go.**

**Chapter 4: War and Other Eccentrics**

Rorrik stood on the battlements overlooking the plains west of Whiterun, surveying the growing army of draugr-turned-Nord army. For the last week since Serana left, everyday at least one hundred draugr have arrived to bolster the ranks of this already deadly force. If this kept up, not even he could handle this threat.

"Dragonborn! Dragonborn!" a guard ran up to Rorrik. He turned around to see it was Gerrell. The had his helmet under his arm, revieling his shoulder length dark blond hair, long nose, and sharp chin. "Come quick, the dragons are approaching from the east! They make to attack!"

"Calm down Gerrall, they mean us no harm. They are here to help." replied Rorrik. Gerrall looked stunned. "How many are there?" he asked calmly.

"Six, maybe seven. What do you mean they are here to help?" Gerrall asked.

"You do remember I befriended a very powerful dragon. He can be very influential at times." Gerrall still looked stunned. "Let's go."

On the inside, Rorrik was not as calm as he seemed on the outside. 'Only six or seven? How could he not get more? He asked Odahviing to convince at least twenty dragons to fight with them. Any less and they were in a real tight jam. As they neared the market center, he saw Odahviing break off from the other dragons, now defiantly numbering 6 other dragons, and landed on top of the inn.

"Dovahkiin, I am terribly sorry, but these were the only dovah I could bring to our cause, but they are mul dovah, strong dovah. They will fight well, when the time comes," Odahviing explained in his deep, guttural voice.

Rorrik sighed in frustration, then said, "Well, six is better than none. Alright, I need you and the others to fly over their camp, and find out their approximate numbers, then take out any approaching groups of draugr to keep their numbers at what they are now." he ordered in a commanding tone.

"Yes, Dovahkiin," and with that , Odahviing used his powerful legs to launch himself off his perch on the inn. Rorrik watched him regroup with the other dragons, then turned to the guards and said, "Look for smiths that can forge ebony, andstart gathering Ebony. When the dragons get back, all our smiths will make armor for the dragons. We need them to be as impossible to kill as the gods will allow."

"Yes, Dragonborn." with that, Gerrall took the guards, and started their tasks. After Serana had left, Balgruuf made Rorrik his general, as he had the most experience at killing draugr. At this, Rorrik soon started to reinforce the guards armor with stronger metals, to make them more durable. They now wore the standard chain mail as they did before, but he had helped Eorlund Grey-Mane with forging new sets out of Sky-Forge Steel. It took four days to finish this alone, and they had no time to polish them, and make them battle-ready. They left that to the guards. At this moment, Eorlund was forging Sky-Forge Steel weapons for the guards. He also had Adrianne Avenicci making the complementary pieces of armor for the guards.

The wrist-guards were made out of light steel plates, along with the shin-guards, and the shields would be made out of interlocking pieces of scaled steel, set on fire hardened oak planks in the standard round buckler form the guards were used to. The helms were the same, but with hardened lether on the back of the neck, and the spikes were removed, as they were useless.

He placed an order for thousands of steel arrows from the fletcher in Solitude, and a request for Imperial reinforcements that would deliver the shipment of arrows. He also had Elrindir making bows for the guards. Aela volunteered to train the guards in advanced archery, and the guards eagerly accepted this.

Also, he contacted Isran and asked if Gunmar could make some crossbows, and deliver them, along with someone to train people to use them. Isran did so without hesitation, and was on his way now with the crossbows and bolts himself, along with his soldiers.

Rorrik was doing everything in his power to bolster Whiterun's strength, because this could all very well end in one battle if he didn't. He was calling in all the owed favors, contacts throughout the holds, he had the Thieves' Guild gathering any information possible. He had the Dark Brotherhood contracted out to take out any draugr they came into contact with, the Companions were training the soldiers and citizens of the hold to fight better, and even the mages guild to place magical defences around the city, and researching this phenomenon that were bring the draugr back to sentient life.

As he walked back to Dragonsreach, he let his mind wander just a bit, remembering the first time he had met his late wife...

_Flashback_

_ Rorrik had been tracking this group of bandits for two days, as he had been hired by the Jarl of the Rift, Maven Black-Briar, to take them out because they had been harassing supply shipments for the Black-Briar Meadery. As he neared the place were they made camp for the night, he crouched down and pulled out his ebony bow, and nocked an arrow to the string. As he came within hearing range of the bandits, he heard one talking to a prisoner he had discovered they had a few hours ago._

_ "Well, aren't you just a pretty lil' thing, eh bitch? Come on! Say somethin'! Oh thats right, you can't with that rag in your mouth. How 'bout I replace that rag with somethin' a lil' more... meaty. Hehe." said the bandit, unbuckling his leather breeches, until another bandit, a woman, said,_

_ "Gilth! The boss said he wants all the female slaves untainted until he's done with them! How many times do I have to tell you? Keep it in your breeches!"_

_ "Bah, what he doesn't know won't hurt 'em! Besides, I was just going to test how good she is at 'polishin' spears', hehe..."_

_ "Gilth..." the female bandit, obviously the leader of the party said, her voice dangerously low._

_ "Fine, I'll leave 'er be," he lowered his voice so only the female prisoner could hear, but, of course, Rorrik heard as well, "Your lucky this time you lil' whore. When Baeoger is finished with you, you'll be my personal lil' fuck-slave, hehehe..." Rorrik could see the fear in the face of the female, and decided to take out the bandits now. He was originally going to follow them to their base, and take them out there, but after hearing the bandit cheif's name, he new where they were holed up._

_ Rorrik inched closer and came to the edge of the clearing where the bandits were camped at, and assessed the situation. There were seven bandits in total, two standing guard, one cooking, another ending to the horse that drew their carriage with the loot, one was sleeping, and Gilth and the female bandit leader were tending to there weapons._

_ Rorrik stowed his bow and pulled out his two dragonbone daggers, and approached the first guard, the one no one would notice was missing until it was too late. He got up behind him and slit his throat with his other forearm covering his mouth to keep the noise down. He hid the body in a bush._

_ He came up behind the horse groomer, and repeated the process. The guard that was sleeping was ended with a swift blow by the hilt of a dagger to the temple. The last four would have to be dealt with quickly. First the guard, then the two maintaining their weapons and finally, the cook. He replaced the daggers in their sheathes,and took out his bow again._

_He pulled out four arrows, stuck three arrows in the ground in front of him, and nocked the fourth, raised up, and put it in the back of the guard's head, killing him instantly. He then quickly grabbed another arrow, and fired it into the heart of the leader, she would stay alive long enough for some questions, by then, Gilth was on top of him, slashing with his crude iron sword. Rorrik was dodging the wild slashes with ease._

_ This worried the vile bandit, as he became more frantic, not used to fighting a trained warrior, especially one trained in the art of swordsmanship. Before Rorrik could pull one of his daggers, the cook was on him with two dwarven war axes. This bandit knew what he was doing, which prompted Rorrik to block with his bow, almost cutting it in half. He was forced to Shout them down with a muttered 'Fus'. They were put to the ground with startled looks on their face, realizing just who they were facing. _

_ They turned tail and ran, but didn't get to far, as they ended up with steel knives in their spines. He walked over to them and pulled out his knives. He sheathed them, and walked back to his bow, seeing it was ruined, kicked it and picked up his remaining arrows._

_ When he was done reacquiring his weapons he walked over to the prisoner, but stopped dead in his tracks, upon getting a good look at her face. Even though she was beaten and bloodied, he could tell she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. _

_ When he noticed that he had been starring at her, he quickly ran over to her, and started cutting her loose. When he had her free, she wrapped her arms around him and was sobbing out endless 'thank you's to him. When she finally stopped sobbing, she let go off him and looked him in his face. She starred at his eyes for a few moments before saying,_

_ "Your eyes! They are such a piercing blue! Like ice in the morning light!" she said with wonder in her voice._

_ Rorrik was dumbfounded. Of all things... she complimented... his eyes? "Wha?"_

_ "Oh! I'm so sorry, im unusual like that! I make weird observations about people when I first meet them, and can't keep them in my head! My mother said that was one of her favorite things about me! Oh, by the way, what is your name?" she said, barely taking a breath between sentences._

_ "O-oh, my name... I'm Rorrik... and you are?" he stuttered out, still amazed by here shear beauty._

_ "Oh, again, I'm so sorry! That was rude of me! Im..."_

_End Flashback_

_ "_Dragonborn!"

This startled Rorrik back out of his thoughts, and he realized he was in front of Balgruuf, in his throne room.

"Wha? Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought."

"I could tell." replied the Jarl.

"Right... I came here to report my progress with the cities' defenses. The guards are rearmed and re-armored. The walls have been reinforced with the strongest logs from the base of the Throat of the World. We have food stored in secure locations around the city, and an extra underground well was dug to provide more water for fighting fires. We have an order of a few thousand arrows, and Imperial reinforcements delivering them, and the Dawngaurd is coming with their own soldiers and a large set of crossbows." he finished delivering his report to the Jarl with an exasperated sigh.

"Good, very good. We might just have a chance of surviving the first attack. What is the progress with the dragons?" asked Balgruuf.

"Not good. He was only able to convince six other dragons, though he says that they are among the strongest dragons existing. I have ebony smiths being gathered up to forge ebony armor for the dragons."

"That's a brilliant idea! Even though there scales are as hard as stone, this extra armor in vital spots, I'm assuming, would make them neigh on unstoppable."

"My point exactly." replied Rorrik.

"Good work, Rorrik, good work," Balgruuf stood and placed his hand on Rorrik's shoulder, and said,"My friend, you deserve a rest. You have worked yourself into the ground this past week, and because of you, we can rest a little easier at night, knowing we are at least prepared. Go. Rest for the remainder of today. I will have a cook sent over to Breezehome to make you a meal." Balgruuf said in a kind voice that only his children and close friends heard.

"Thank you, Balgruuf. I'll be back tomorrow to continue my work," With that, he turned and walked back to Breezehome. When he was made general by Balgruuf, he had to sleep somewhere. He was going to turn Breezehome into an armory or storehouse, but the Jarl wouldn't allow it, saying that as his general, Rorrik would need to be as rested as possible, and sleeping in a common guard bunk would not help this. So, he cleaned out the cobwebs and dust, considering he hadn't lived there in over a year, and made it a little more comforting. Lydia, his housecarl, was currently in Hammerfell, learning the Redgaurd secrets of war.

As he walked in , the first thing he did was put his sword on the weapon plaque over his door. He then proceeded to remove his boots, and sat down in the nearest chair, and promptly passed out from mental exhaustion.

He woke up a few hours later to a knock on the door. 'Must be the cook,' thought Rorrik. He walked to the door and opened it, revealing one of the women caretakers of Dragonsreach. He couldn't remember her name. She immediately made her way to the 'kitchen', and began preparing food.

"I hope you like orange boar roast soup! It's my specialty." she said with excitement.

"It sounds amazing, his stomach making a sound of agreement. At that she went back to cooking, humming a tune. Rorrik made his way to his bedroom to wash up before eating. After about forty-five torturous minutes, as the food smelled like it was fit for a king, but seeing as how Jarl Balgruuf had come into contendership for the title of Skyrim's High King, it kind of was. When he sat down at his table to eat, the woman placed a bowl in front of him, and he muttered a thanks.

He took one bite... and had immediate sensory overload. It was by far the best food he had ever tasted, and had no problem letting this woman know it.

"Why thank you, Dragonborn. It is the least I can do for the hero of Skyrim," she replied politely. She made to leave, but Rorrik stopped her and asked if she would like to dine with him.

"Well... ok, but only because you insist." she said. They ate in silence for the most part, until the woman started to clean up for them. "Say, young fella, who was that lovely young woman with you before? Is she your wife? She was quite beautiful. And why did she leave"

'She's not as young as you think,' thought Rorrik. "No, she is not my wife, but she is a good friend though. And yes, she is very beautiful. To answer your last question, there is a person she knows who might be able to shed insight on this situation with the draugr."

"Oh, well, then. She sounds like she is a key to this predicament then. We can only pray to the gods that what you and your companions are doing is enough to save us." replied the woman.

"I stopped having faith in the gods a long time ago."

The woman looked shocked. "Why have you lost faith in them? Why else would we exist? They are the only thing keeping the people of Whiterun from falling apart at the seems." she stated vehemently.

"They took the most precious thing in my life from me. I'm not saying they don't exist, I am simply saying I don't have faith in their ability to make things right anymore. Not after my experiences," he said with a distant look in his eyes.

The woman grabbed her bag of food stuffs, and said, "I think it's time for me to leave," and walked out of his home. He sighed, knowing he pissed her off, but he didn't care, not right now. Now he wanted to wallow in sorrow. He pulled out several bottles of wine and sulked to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him, and cracked open a bottle, and began drinking.

He felt his face become wet. He was crying. Tears. He hadn't cried since a month after her death. He didn't know why he was now. Probably because that woman, whose name he didn't even know, was the first person he had ever told about what he thought about the gods.

"Damn those bastards. Damn them, damn them, damn them, damn them, damn them!" his voice rising to a yell at the end of his rant. He drank several bottles of wine that night, and cried himself to sleep.

**So, how'd you like this one? I was a liiiiitle proud of this one, as it was on the lengthy side of things, for me, and I feel like it explained a few things, and opened up Rorrik for a little bit of study, because now you see how much of an emotional mess he is in. Poor Dovahkiin...**

** Oh, by the way, the rating for this is T, but if the bandit scene offended you, and you feel as if it should make this story rated M, please leave a review saying so, or PM me. R&R please! Alpha out.**


	5. Old Hatred and Gruesome Pastimes

** Hey, guys! Thanks for all of you who are sticking with this story so far! I know its rough, but I'm still developing my writing style, and I don't really want to deal with a beta... SO! I am, starting now, sending my drafts to a friend for purely editorial efforts, to make sure I have as few grammatical errors as possible. Thanks to Worn Steel7 for his short, but oh so inspiring, to me, reviews! Oh, and Rorrik's late wife's name is revealed in this chapter!**

******Oh yeah, I do not own anything but a Skyrim: Legendary Edition hard copy. And the Plot. And my character. Lets go.**

**Chapter 5: ****Old Hatred and Gruesome Pastimes**

Rorrik awoke on the floor, with a pounding headache. He slowly raised himself off the floor, trying not to make his head hurt worse.

"Damn it! Where do I keep the potions at?" he started to search through all the cabinets, drawers, containers, until he found his store.

"Finally," he opened the bottle of a small health potion, and knocked it back. He felt instant relief from the headache. He threw the empty bottle into his waste bucket, and started dressing for the day. He had on a simple green wool short-sleeved tunic, and worn brown leather breeches, but had on a set of steel boots, just in case he had to throw on some armor quickly.

He started out of his door, a little reluctant at getting to Dragonsreach, knowing that the woman was there. He remembered the look on her face, it was if he had slapped her. She was offended because he had no faith. Sometimes he wished he could be left alone for a few days.

He walked inside slowly when he arrived, a little afraid of this woman. When he didn't notice her, he almost ran to the war room above the main hall. He immediately notice something wrong. Then it hit him. He quickly reached for his sword, but realized he left it at his home.

"What are _you_ doing here, Arngrier?" he said, with rage bubbling up inside him.

"Dragonborn, I know that you still hold a deep resentment towards me for my inaction, but you must realize, we are here to help. Skyrim will not survive without our help this time. This is a worse threat than even Alduin." said Arngreir, in a pleading tone.

"We can do this on our own." replied Rorrik.

"Dragonborn!" butted in Balgruuf. "They are here to help! You do not refuse help from the Greybeards!"

"They refused to help me before, so why should I accept it now?" And with that, he turned and left. 'That old bastard! Who does he think he is?' he stormed back to his home. Once inside, he started pacing back and forth in front of the door.

Next thing he knew, he was placing on his armor on, and strapping on his weapon belt. He was out of the doors as quick as he was in. He started towards the gates, but was stopped by Balgruuf.

"Rorrik! Where are you going?" he said frantically.

"I don't care. Just somewhere away from those old bastards! Until they're gone, I'm not going to be in the city. I have to meet with some contacts anyway," and with that, he was out of the gates.

Rorrik walked until the sun was touching the western mountains, in the Reach, until he final came to the Orc stronghold Largashbur, west of Riften. He was not exactly on good terms with the Orcs, probably because half of them that he meets try to kill him, but he needs there help. They're the best overall smiths in Tamriel, and are also the fiercest warriors he knew.

He walked to the gate before one of the guards barked at him to halt. As he entered, he knew he was in for a verbal war-turned-strongest warrior contest. He loosened his blade in its holder. Just in case.

He walked out several hours later with a couple of new scars, a set of bruises, and was sore all over, but had the support of the orcs, well, at least one stronghold's worth of orcs. 'Time to get back' he thought. 'maybe those old bastards have left by now.

He walked for about an hour, with the moon peaking over the eastern mountains, he was sure it would be a full one tonight, before noticing a dragon flying nearby. 'There's my ride,' he quickly engaged the dragon in combat, and used the Bend Will Shout to tame the dragon.

"What is your will, Dovahkiin?" rumbled the dragon.

"Take me to Whiterun."

"Yes, Dovahkiin."

Rorrik climbed on the massive neck of the dragon, and prepared for the flight. As soon as he was situated, the dragon pushed himself off the ground and turned for Whiterun. As the flight continued, Rorrik started to lose himself in his memory again.

_Flashback_

_ "Beyla. My name is Beyla." _

_ "That's a beautiful name."_

_ "Thank you. Your name is... a name! Hehe..." Her laugh was was like a thousand eleven children singing. Her eyes, her big, brown, sparkling eyes, they were like pools of the sweetest Cyrodiilyian chocolate, her small, pointed nose, high cheek bones, and sharp chin made her face look as if she were a lost goddess herself. Her shoulder length blonde-brown hair looked to be as soft as Khajit silk, and her body had curves in all the right places, nothing too big, and everything proportioned perfectly, as far as he could tell, and her skin was just the right color, light, but slightly tan._

_ "Um...your staring."_

_ "Oh! I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought," he spluttered out quickly, standing up in the process. He motioned for her to stand up as well, but she didn't budge._

_ "I... can't stand up... I broke my left leg trying to run from the bandits... You will have to help me." she said, a little embarrassed. He hadn't noticed she was favoring her leg._

_ "Are you in pain?" he asked, worried._

_ "Just a little. Are you worried about me?" she gave a small laugh at this. Rorrik quickly pulled out a potion, and gave it to her. She pulled out the stopper out of the bottle, and drank it slowly, then threw the bottle aside. "Ah," she sighed. "Much better... Thank you, Rorrik." _

_ "We'll need a splint to make sure the bone doesn't move more than needed," he said, while looking for materials to make one. He found two shovels. He cut the shovels down to her leg's length, one for the front, one for the back. He then found leather strips in a chest on the wagon. He had Beyla hold the sticks in place. He knelt down, and propped her leg carefully on his knee, and began wrapping her leg with the leather strips. Soon, he had her leg in a crude splint._

_ "Oh, before we start moving around, where exactly are we heading?" he asked._

_ Her expression immediately turned from jovial, to a downtrodden one. "My... my home... was destroyed. My family... gone. I have nowhere to go..." she choked out, barely audible. _

_ "Well... then you will come to my home. You can stay there until you can find somewhere to live," he then hauled her up, and supported her with his arm. "We can use the carriage to get there, that way you can rest." _

_ Once they arrived at the carriage, he turned her to face him, picked her up under the arms, and sat her on the edge of the cart like a child. She was very light, after all. He then climbed up into the carriage, and began clearing it out of the items that were of no use. Soon, he had an area with cloth and padding set up for her to make the ride as comfortable as possible. He then pulled her to the spot and made sure she was ready for the journey._

_ "Thank you," she whispered. He eyes still downcast._

_ "It's alright, there is no need to thank me," Rorrik replied, just as softly._

_ He swung over the side of the carriage, and made to hitch the horse. Half way through the process, he heard a faint sound. He strained his ears to hear._

_ "Please... nd it, end i... Please end it!" the voice picking up at the end. 'The bandit!' he left her alive enough to question, but unable to fight. He completely forgot about her! He quickly ran to her. Upon reaching her, he didn't give her time to plead again. He asked the most important question first, in case she died on him._

_ "Why is Beaoger collecting slaves? Why?"_

_ "You think I would tell you, hehehe..." She spit blood in his face._

_ Growling, he wiped it off, and said, "Tell me, or the pain gets worse."_

_ "Good, it will make me die faster."_

_ "Oh, trust me, I can make it last longer..." he pulled out his dagger, and flashed it in front of her face. She only started laughing. He took the dagger and made a small cut on her forearm, away from the veins. She just winced. He made another one next to it, slightly deeper. She gave as small grunt. He decided to step it up a notch._

_ He took out a bottle that contained a very small amount of the poison that Karliah had accidentally used on him. He made a small incision on her wrist on the vein there, and dropped in the poison, slowing her blood flow. It's effects were almost immediate. The blood coming out of her wounds slowed considerably._

_ He then ripped open her tunic on her midriff, and made a large gash. This time, she cried out in pain._

_ "HA! Is that the best you can do? I've had skeever bites worse than that!" she taunted_

_ Rorrik then made three more on her gut. She choked on her own voice this time, almost in shock, and would have died right then, if not for the poison in her blood. She couldn't speak this time. He then jammed the blade through her right shoulder._

_ "Gah!" she cried. _

_ Three minutes and multiple wounds later, she finally said, "Alright, alright! I'll tell you! Please, just end it!" she sobbed._

_ "Then tell me what I want to know!" he yelled._

_ "I don't know why, but he is harvesting souls of all the slaves he captures into a giant soul gem! He said that he almost had it filled full of souls last time we were there! That's all I know I swear!" she cried._

_ Rorrik sat back in shock. He had a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of questions to ask. He quickly leaned forward and ended the bandits life, knowing there was nothing else he could learn from her. He dragged the bodies of the bandits into a pile, and used the simplest of fire spells to burn the bodies._

_ He quickly finished hitching the horse and jumped on the drivers seat. They took off toward his home._

_ "Sorry you had to see that. It was... necessary," he mumbled, just loud enough for her to hear._

_ "I understand. Just please... I'm tired of death, so try not to kill anyone else. Promise me."_

_ "... I promise."_

_End Flashback_

"Dovahkiin, we are here," Rorrik heared the dragon say.

"Good. Land us in the field east of the city," he ordered.

"Yes, Dovahkiin."

By the time they landed, it was well past midnight. With a full moon in the sky. 'So beautiful' he thought. If only he could run free, like he used to on these nights, his other side allowing him to be someone else, no worries, no responsibilities, nothing to be afraid of, no disasters to prevent. Just... free...

Soon, after he had dismounted the dragon, and sent it on its way to Odahviing, as he was still looking for dragons to join the effort, he reached the gates of Whiterun. 'Those old bastards better have left.'

As he walked through the gates, he felt a quick flash of pain in his head. He winced, clueless to why it happened. "What in Oblivion?" he whispered, clutching his head. He suddenly felt as if something terrible would happen soon, but it passed as well.

Terribly confused, he began the trek to Dragonsreach. As he passed his home, he heard someone clear there throat. He quickly turned to face his home.

"Serana!"

**Sooo... didnt care for most of the chapter, 'cept for the flashback and Serana showing back up. Again, if you think the torture scene should make this a M rated story. I'm debating on making it an M myself, but if I get a couple reviews saying it should be, I'll change it. R&R please! Alpha out.**

**Author Update: I have a new poll up on my page, asking whether or not Rorrik's past is an important and entertaining factor of the story and whether or not i should keep it up or keep it to a minimum. Please vote! Alpha out.**


	6. Emotions Are Fickle Things

"Serana!" he exclaimed. "Your back!"

"Yeah, I'm back. I've also been standing outside your door for the last four hours. Where have you been? The 'draugr' could have attacked, and you would have been clueless!" she emphasized 'draugr' with her hands.

"Sorry... I had a a contact to meet with." he replied sheepishly.

"A contact? They better have damn well been important!" she yelled.

"It was an Orc Stronghold. I at least have their support, if not more strongholds."

"Oh... well... they could be a bit of help... sorry for yelling at you."

"It's alright. I had to leave the city anyway. The _Greybeards_ were here."

"You still have a grudge against them? You have to get over your wife's death!"

"Just drop it, Serana. Please."

"Okay."

"Well... did your mother know anything?" asked Rorrik, after a few moments.

"We should talk about this with the Jarl and those mages you recruited in the discussion."

"Right. The Jarl is probably waiting on me. He seemed disappointed when I stormed out. I swear, he's not that much older than me, but he acts like my father... well if I knew my father, they would probably have been similar in attitude, but that's beside the point. I'll go get the mages, and meet you at Dragonsreach."

"Alright." she said, knowing that the father issue was a sore one, even though she had no idea why that it came up.

Rorrik took off toward the guard barracks, as that was where the mages were bunking up.

After he had retrieved the rather reluctant mages, as it was, again, well past midnight, the group made towards the keep. They headed straight for the war room once they were inside. A guard directed them onto the dragon balcony. Once inside, Rorrik noticed that Serana , the Jarl, the captain of the guard, Irileth, Proventus Avenicci, Hrongar, and Farengar were already surrounding the table. Odahviing was even landed at the mouth of the overhang. Rorrik motioned for the mages to stand around it too.

"Alright Serana, what did your mother know about this?" asked Rorrik.

"Well, apparently, the impossible is a little more possible than we thought. Souls can be re-entered into a living object." This garnered a few shocked stares. "It was easily displayed by Alduin reviving the dragons." she looked at Odahviing when she said this.

"But the souls were still stored in the bones of the dragons. He didn't put them back in." stated Rorrik. "It was just a higher level of necromancy."

"But that's where your wrong. The restrictions of this ritual is that, one, the original souls are what have to be in the original body. Two, the beings that perform this ritual have to be of at least Alduin's strength or more, as a collective, or one being. Third, there has to be a physical conduit through which the souls are fed through. And fourth, the souls can only stay in the bodies as long as the physical conduit is active." she explained. "What Alduin did to revive the dragons is still a mystery to me. He used the Thu'um to revive them, and I have no knowledge other than what everyone else does about it. That's something you will have to ask the Greybeards about."

Rorrik's fist clenched at this. Everyone else was in a state of complete shock.

"So, what you are saying is all we have to do is destroy the conduits to defeat them?" asked Farengar.

"Basically."

"But what are the conduits?" asked Balgruuf.

"The Pillars of light. They have to be something like giant soul gems!" exclaimed Rorrik in a moment of realization.

"Exactly," said Serana.

"This is just what we needed," said Proventus. "Now, all we have to do is destroy those conduits!"

"Have you looked over the walls in this last week, Proventus?" said Irileth. "We would be lucky to get halfway through their ranks with our current manpower!"

"She's right," said Hrongar. "Even a group of Orc Berserkers would have a hard time breaking into their ranks."

"Speaking of which, I have recruited at least one stronghold of Orcs to our cause," said Rorrik

"Good work, Dragonborn!" praised the Jarl. "We're one step closer to solving this problem."

"They're are many more we need to recruit to defeating this problem. Word will have spread to all the holds about the army, so there should be some volunteers already on their way," stated Hrongar

"My Jarl, we need the Empire. We need their troops. With their help, we can easily crush the draugr," stated Proventus.

"The Empire is weak after the conflict with the Stormcloaks. They won't want anything to do with Skyrim for a long while, so, the Imperial troops left in Skyrim is all we have," said Irileth.

"With this knowledge, I shall be able to bring more dovah to the battle, dovah with a mul Thu'umn, a strong Voice." rumbled Odahviing. "I have also heard whispers in the wind that the Old One, Paarthurnax, is returning with his followers. They shall be able to aid us."

"Paarthurnax! He will be of great help! This situation is taking a turn for the better!" Said Rorrik.

"This is all inspiring news, but we are all exhausted from the events of this past week. Let us retire and discuss this further on the morrow," commanded Balgruuf. There was a chorus of 'Yes, my Jarl's, and the balcony was eventually cleared to leave only Rorrik, Serana, and Odahviing.

"Serana, that was great new! We have a chance of victory here! All because of you and your mother!"

"I sense that there is more the nightwalker has to say, dovahkiin," said Odahviing. Rorrik gave Serana a confused look.

"Yes, Odahviing, there is more." She gave Rorrik a pain filled look. "We need someone of the Septim bloodline to sacrifice themselves in the center of the conduitsas they are connected by some time of blood rune, as the ritual dictates, in order to make them brittle enough to be destroyed. The ritual was originally designed by Potema, a part of the Septim bloodline. She had originally planned to do this herself, but died before she could. This was her fail safe, in case the revived Nords were rebellious."

"Then... they can't be destroyed, meaning..."

"We can't stop this, unless we find some long lost descendent of Tiber Septim."

"But the last decedent was Martin Septim!"

"True, but there were rumors the Martin knew he would have to sacrifice himself to stop the Oblivion Crisis, so he made an heir before he headed into the last battle of the Oblivion Crisis," she said.

"How do you know all this? You were locked in a stone tomb for the entire history of the Empire!" Rorrik said.

"I read a lot of history books," she stated simply. "Anyway, the rumor continued on to say that the pregnant mother was sent to Skyrim , so the children could be raised as Tiber Septim was.

"Your saying that the 'long-lost heir to the Imperial Throne is in Skyrim."

"Not only that, but he is standing right in front of me."

Rorrik just stared at her blankly for more than a couple of minutes.

"What?" he asked, with confusion flooding his voice. "Your saying that the last heir of Tiber Septim is... is me? That's just... preposterous."

"No it's not! Look at history. Every Dragonborn since Tiber Septim has been in his bloodline! Why would that change out of nowhere?"

" She is right, Dovahkiin. Since the time of the first Septim, Paarthurnax informed me that he could smell a Septim from a league away, and that the Septim stench was surrounding you, like an aura. He instructed me to keep this knowledge from you, unless the possibility that you were a Septim was revealed to you," rumbled Odahviing.

Rorrik could no longer stand. He abruptly landed on his rear in shock. "I have to die... to stop this? Great," he mumbled, barely audible.

Serana knelt down next to him and placed her pale hands on his shoulders.

"I am so sorry Rorrik. We will look for other options, but there is a large chance it will come down to exactly that."

After a few minutes, Rorrik was able to stand. "Go, Odahviing."

"Yes, Dovahkiin," he ru8mbled, launching himself from the balcony.

"Let's go back to my home," mumbled Rorrik, still in shock.

"Okay," whisper Serana, clutching his hand tightly in hers. "Let me lead the way."

Hand in hand, they slowly made their way to Breezehome. Once inside, she helped Rorrik remove his armor, laying it carefully to the side. When he was in nothing but a pair of brown wool pants, Serana led him to his room, where he sat on his bed, still blankly staring ahead, trying to process the devastating information.

She went back to the 'kitchen', and got him a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. She sat down next to him, and handed the meal over. He ate the loaf of bread slowly, but downed the wine in almost one go.

"Rorrik?"

"What?"

"I know what you must be thinking-"

"No, you don't," he said softly. "What would you think,finding out that you were the last descendent of the most historic and prestigious bloodline in history, and that you have to die to, once again, save a land from it's own past, a land that has, in your past, done nothing but put you down and try to destroy you, but as soon as there is something it's people cant handle, come groveling to you to save it's ass, especially when you have a power that makes you the hero you never wanted to be! How would you know what it feels like to be literally be put through some twisted corner of Oblivion, just to appease a fucking Deadric Prince with an old grudge? How would you know what it feels like to be the personal plaything of the gods, doing their every biding, along with even more Deadric Princes, and kings, and what not? How would you know what it feels like to have everything you love ripped away from you by a damned criminal that was in a blood lust for power, and a bunch of old men with some fucked up standards? HOW? He screamed.

To say Serana was speechless would be an understatement. She was completely dumbfounded by his outburst of rage and sorrow. She had just delved further into his past than ever before.

"I... I'm sorry for assuming. It must be hard."

"It's driving me insane! I don't even have a child!"

They both sat in silence for a few moments, neither looking at the other. Finally, Rorrik spoke up.

I'm sorry... I had no right to yell at you like that. I know that your past was hard too... your mother and father hating each other, you just wanting to have a whole family, being locked away for centuries... having to kill your own father... it's just an overload of information for me..."

"No, it's alright. Everyone needs to vent their frustrations every once in a while... it's not good to keep your emotions locked inside," she spoke softly.

"I know... your right, about me, as usual... I have been bottling up my feelings for years now. I was eventually going to explode. I had hoped it wouldn't be directed at you, though." he said, greif evident in his voice.

Serana gave a small laugh. Rorrik gave her a look that said 'Are you crazy?' She just laughed a little more.

"Because,I remember when when we first me, how emotionally devoid of life you were. A stone wall had more character than you. By the time our little escapade came to a close, you had finally opened up a little to the world. But it still took me many more months before you finally shed the shell of despair you had carried with you since the death of your wife," she explained. "Now your going back into it. So... stop being worried. Everything will turn out alright. I am sure there is another way we can solve this without your death. That way you can find the right woman, and she can have your children, and continue the bloodline you are so worried about preserving."

"I wouldn't give a damn about the bloodline, if it wasn't so historic... It's just plain strange finding out your the descendent of Tiber Septim... of basically a god..."

"It is strange, but think about it this way, if you wanted to, after we finish this, you can become the Emperor if you wanted to. The title is rightfully yours," she gave a small laugh.

"What in Oblivion makes you think that I want to be the Emperor? I wouldn't last a month in that bureaucratic cesspool," he said dryly.

"I know. Just looking at the bright side of things."

They sat in silence again, but a peaceful one this time. After a few minutes, Serana felt Rorrik's head hit her shoulder., and looked over to see that Rorrik was fast asleep. She carefully lowered him to a lying position, and covered him up with the sheets on his bed.

After she accomplished this, she quietly left the room and headed for the 'kitchen' again. 'So hungry,' she thought. 'Good thing I have this blood potion... Rorrik was starting to look tasty... Hehe... just joking.' she pulled out a rather large bottle out of her satchel, and uncorked it. She slowly drank the blood, savoring it, knowing she wasn't going to get another chance to feed for a while.

After she finished, she disposed of the bottle, and made her way to the spare bedroom. Vampire's had to sleep too. She undressed down to her undergarments, and looked around to see if his Housecarl, Lydia, had any sleepwear. Not finding any, she cursed under her breath. 'So, I guess I will have to borrow some clothing from Rorrik.' She stealthily made her way back to Rorrik's room,and searched around his room for a few minutes, before finding a gray tunic that was large enough to be a very short dress on her. 'I guess it will have to do.'

She started to walk back out of his room, but hesitated. She turned around to look at his sleeping figure. He was sweating profusely , and had a look of distress on his face. She could tell he was not having a good dream. She decided to try and comfort him, but was not sure how, with him asleep. She stood there for a moment, and eventually just decided to be next to him, hoping her presence would be enough to calm him.

She walked over to his bed and laid down next to him, and rested her arm over his chest. The effects were almost immediate. A look of relief and contentment washed over his rugged face. Serana gave a small smile, before closing her eyes and drifting into the world of dreams herself.


	7. A Blissful Nightmare

**Hey all, sorry I didn't have an A.N. in the last chapter. My file got corrupted, and FFN wouldn't let me add in any text in the editor, so here's the A.N., if you didn't know that already... Anywho, I know most of you are like, "WHAT THE F***!? WHY IS HE A SEPTIM!?" Well, for me, it was obvious. For hundreds upon hundreds of years, all Dragonborn were of the Septim bloodline, so, why not this one? Yeah, yeah, I know, "BECAUSE YOU CAN BE A NORD, REDGAURD, BRETON, ELF, OR GIANT CATS AND LIZARDS!" Well, my guy is human, and I explained why he is a Nord Dragonborn, so I have my explanation laid out right there. Anyway, like I said, the last chapters file got corrupted, so I had to cut out the last part. Also, I am sorry for it being so rushed. I hate that so much, but I can't figure out how to put down what I want, and it not be rushed. Anyway, here's the rest.**

**All I own is my plot, OC's, and a hard copy of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim: Legendary Edition.**

Rorrik was walking through a strange forest he had never set eyes on before, in nothing but a pair of worn, brown leather breeches. The trees were ancient oaks, but they had black bark, and the leaves were as red as fresh blood. The moon was full and high in the sky, and it was deathly silent. He walked for what seemed like an eternity, before coming to a wooden door in the middle of the clearing.

He went to open the door, but was grabbed from behind, and thrown into a tree, hard enough to leave a depression in the tree, and slumped to the ground. After a few moments, he was able to stand. He looked to see who attacked him. There were three figures, but before he could catch a glimpse of their faces, a cloud covered the moon, throwing everything in a thick shadow. The started to slowly advanced towards him.

After a moment, one rushed him, with what looked to be a mace. Rorrik dodged the slow, cumbersome swipes of the mace wielder with ease for a few moments, until another, smaller, more nimble figure, with a dagger, started to swipe at him. For a short time, he was able to successfully dodge their conjoined attacks, but soon, was clipped on the shoulder by the dagger-wielder, and without his armor, made a sickening slicing sound. He tried to dodge the mace-wielder, but the slice on his shoulder threw off his balance, which let the mace-wielder strike him on the back of his thigh.

He crumpled to the ground in a heap, clutching his leg where the mace struck him. The two attackers who engaged him backed off, showing that the third attacker was approaching him. The last assailant was larger than the others, at least as tall as a young giant. He threw a sword at Rorrik's feet.

"Fight," he rumbled the figure, now obviously a man. He then unbuckled two battle-axes that were resting on his back. Rorrik struggled to his feet again, this time with sword in hand. The mace-wielder again rushed him, but as he was still recovering from the blow to his leg. Rorrik had to block with his blade.

The attacker's mace accidentally locked with the pommel of Rorrik's blade. They began a battle for dominance to determine who would recover first. Rorrik was the stronger one, pushing the assailant back. He almost had him backed into a tree, until he was rammed in the side by the dagger-wielder. Rorrik's sword came free, causing him to stumble. The giant was on him in an instant, swinging the axes with an incredible speed, equivalent to a child swinging brittle sticks. Rorrik had no choice but to block, but after just one blow, his arms went completely numb with the amount of force put behind the swing. He clumsily rolled to the side to avoid the next attack, but was struck in the back with a mace when he came to his feet.

He laid there, coughing up blood, and almost couldn't stand back up, but somehow, forced himself onto his feet. He was about to raise his blade, but in an instant, was forced to the ground again by the giant, who kicked him in the stomach with his massive foot.

He landed in front of the mysterious wooden door. This time, Rorrik couldn't come to his feet. The giant walked to him, while placing an axe on his back, in its holder. He picked up Rorrik around the throat with his free hand, and held him against the door.

"Die," whispered the giant. He started to squeeze the life from Rorrik with his shield-sized hand.

"...us.." Rorrik tried to choked out.

"What was that, whelp?" questioned the giant.

"Fus... RO DA!" Rorrik blew forced the giant back into the other attackers, and into a tree, but also forcing himself through the door. He landed on his back, with his eyes closed.

When he opened his eyes, he saw a clear, blue sky, with the sun shinning bright. He was in the same clearing as before, in the same forest, but without the signs of the battle he had just participated in, and the trees were normally colored, with green leaves and brown bark. The door was gone, too. He also wasn't feeling any pain from before. He looked at his shoulder. It was completely healed, even without a scar.

He heard a small laugh from his right. He looked over to see Serana sitting next to him in a light blue dress that cut off at the top of her chest, not covering her arms or shoulders, and ending just below her knees, with a brown belt cinching the dress around her slender waist. She had a golden ring on her ring finger on her left hand. Her black hair shone in the sunlight, and was completely loose, hanging down her back. But something else was different about her. Something about her face... and her eyes... Her eyes! They were a deep, oceanic blue, instead of the yellowish orange of a typical vampire! And her face was a full, tan color, along with the rest of her body, instead of the sickly white of vampires. She was also completely normal and healthy acting even though she was in direct sunlight!

"Your... your no longer a vampire... are you?" he asked, shocked.

She laughed again. "Of course not, remember? You cured me a month before we were married!"

"Married?"

"Of course!" she flashed her left hand to him, then pointed to his left hand, which housed a similar golden band on his ring finger.

"Wait... are you having another bout of amnesia? Dammit! I hate having to remind you of your own damn life before it wears off, just so you don't run away, screaming! Remember, Rorrik? It's our anniversary! This clearing is were we consummated our marriage ten years ago... right were we are sitting..."

"What?"

"Oh never mind... Just... take a nap. Maybe you will have your memory back when you wake up," she wrapped her arms around him and leaned back, with him resting his head on her stomach. "Go to sleep..." she whispered, and started humming a soft tune.

Rorrik closed his eyes, and drifted off into a peaceful slumber with a smile on his face.


	8. Dawn of Love and War

**Hey all! Sorry for the late update, but I hit a titanuim wall of writers block at 200 mph, soo, yeah... Well, better late than never, I say! Enjoy!**

"_Whoa! Your manor is... huge!" Beyla exclaimed. They had just pulled the carriage up to Lakeside Manor. Beyla was viewing it with a look of joy on her face._

_ "Yeah. I put a lot of work into it, so I hope it is a decent home."_

_ "It's breathtaking!"_

_ "Thank you."_

_ He jumped off the cart and started to unhitch his new horses from the wagon. When he finished, he led them to his stable and left them there. He returned to Beyla and noticed she was crying._

_ "What's wrong?"_

_ "It's... it's just that... not even my own family, besides my mother, was so kind to me in my entire life as you have been in the last two days... I thought the gods were playing a cruel trick on me at first... but you haven't dropped me off on the side of a road like I thought you would. You really are kind!" She smiled at the end of her words, a smile so big and beautiful, it almost brought tears to Rorrik's eyes._

_ He, though, had no words to speak. He was stunned into silence by that. He simply helped her from the back of the carriage. He lifted her in to his arms bridal style* and carried her to the front door. He opened the door and walked through, finding all the candles and torch scones unlit, as was per the usual when he was gone for extended periods of time._

_ He took her up to his bed chambers on the second level of his home, and placed her on the bed._

_"I have to mend your leg, but I'm not the best at magic, so I will need a spell book to do it properly. I know I have one somewhere with the right spell," he said while searching all the nightstands and bookshelves. He returned five minutes later saying,_

_ "Well I feel I make a decent fool. It was in my bag," he muttered sheepishly. He took the splint off her leg, then he took her boots off and started to undo her breeches._

_ "What are you doing?" she yelled. _

_ "I have to take them off to see what I am doing," he stated._

_ "Oh. Sorry," she said, her face turning as red as velvet. He finished pulling of her breeches and saw a lump on her lower thigh. He prodded it gently with his finger. She hissed a little._

_ "Sorry," he apologized. Her skin was as smooth a silk. He pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down. He opened the book and laid it next to her._

_ "Have you ever been healed by a spell before?"_

_ "No, why?"_

_ "It... doesn't feel good, especially when healing a broken bone. Just try and hold out, but if the pain becomes too great just tell me."_

_ She just nodded, a scared look in her eyes._

_ "Don't be scared, alright Beyla? I have to heal it," he told her in a soothing voice. She nodded again, this time with a determined look. He smiled a little bit. Rorrik looked down at the book and began, his hands glowing._

_ It went well, at first. They could both tell it was healing. The lump on her leg was receding, letting them know that the bone was going back into place. Then it popped into place, and Beyla screamed. He looked at her face. Tears were coming down in rivulets. She screamed again when it popped again, another of the small bones going into place again._

_ "Do I need to stop?" he half yelled. She set her jaw and shook her head. He turned back to the book, muttering incantations to make it stronger. He could feel his strength fading though. He had a very small amount of magica, so he had to draw from his own life force to heal Beyla._

_ The bone started to mend itself back together, but that meant the shards of bone that were broken of the bone completely started to migrate back to the bone, tearing flesh the whole way. He thought Beyla would go insane from the pain, from the way she was screaming, but she wouldn't let him stop._

_ Finally, after her leg was completely healed, he sat back, exhausted. 'She is very strong.' She had finally passed out in the last minutes of the healing. As the pain was just to much. 'How did she break her leg that bad? It takes a massive amount of force to break a thigh bone** in the first place, but breaking it clean in two like that! She must have been attacked during the raid when she was taken prisoner.' he thought, his mind fuzzy. He looked over at her, her face still had tears on it. He wiped them off gently with his thumb, her face even smoother than her legs._

_ He smiled, thinking of how beautiful she was, and about how easy it would be to just lay with her and... 'No! She is just a young woman! She looks as if she has never married either! I have seen twenty-seven winters, and I doubt she has seen twenty! I could not do that to her!' he thought, almost disgusted with himself. _

_ She opened her eyes just slightly, feeling his calloused hand on her face. She smiled ever so slightly and pulled his arm around her, motioning for him to lay with her. He complied, though reluctantly. 'This is wrong.' When he was finally laying on the bed, she smiled again and promptly fell back into sleep. 'She smells of honey, even being dirty and beaten, she is so very beautiful. How will she look when clean and healthy?' he wondered. He pulled a sheepskin blanket over them, wrapped her in his arms again, and drifted into the world where dreams rule._

_End Flashback_

Rorrik walked to the alchemist shop to retrieve Serana. When he had woke, he was alone, as he was every time since Beyla had died. There was a note on his nightstand from Serana saying she would be at the alchemist shop buying ingredients for a few potions, and to find her there when they were to report to the Jarl.

His mid still lingered on last night, when he had found out that he was the sole Septim, that the the bloodline hadn't died, and still lived with him. Except... he had to die. He tried to take his mind off this but it persisted.

He reached the shop as Serana was leaving. How she traveled so freely without anyone attacking her for being a vampire, he will never know.

"Hey there, Rorrik."

"Serana. Let's go see what the Jarl will have of us today," he told her.

"Yes, master," she said sarcastically. Rorrik sighed.

They began the now-familiar trek to Dragonsreach. Before they could reach the doors though, they burst open to reveal Balgruuf and his platoon of personal guards, including Irileth, fitted for war. The Jarl had on magnificent armor, made out of golden colored steel plates, and looked as if it had been enchanted. His shoulder pauldrons were rounded with three plates layered on top of each other. His arms had mail sleeves with the same steel plate ed gauntlets on his forearms, and fingerless gloves. His legs had golden steel plating on the front with mail leggings underneath, and the same for his boots. His midriff and chest were covered in the same golden steel, but in the center of his chest there was a white diamond horses head for the symbol of Whiterun. Under one arm was a helm of the same golden steel shaped into a horses head. On his back was a massive steel battle-axe.

"Dragonborn! The dead have begun to march on the city! Prepare yourself!"

Rorrik turned and sprinted for his home to retrieve his armor. 'No, no, no, no! They can't march yet! We're not ready! Our forces will be crushed on the first wave!' He Shouted for Odaviing on the run. When he emerged from his home, Serana was standing at the door, in a new set of armor.

"Where did you get that?"

"A gift, from the Jarl. He said it was his late wife. It fits very well, don't you think?" she said while twirling for him.

"Yes, very fitting, but now is not the time for antics, Serana!" just then, Odaviing landed on top of his house.

"Yes, Dovakiin?"

"The draugr are marching! Get the dragons ready!"

"Yes, Dovakiin," rumbled the massive dragon, taking off to complete his task.

"What sorcery is this?" Rorrik heard a guard yell. "They are disappearing and reappearing in front of the walls! They are on us!" That's when the gates shifted from a ram. Rorrik use the Thu'umn to sprint to the gates. He braced his hands against and began muttering words of power to increase his brute force, words he had been learning on his own. He held the gate against another hit from the ram. How did they make it passed the front defenses so quickly? They had twenty guards and multiple structural defenses, plus the draw bridge!

He held against the ram a few more times, but he could not do much else once the gate starts to break. Soldiers were gathering behind him and some were helping him to brace the gate. Balgruuf arrived shortly after, too.

Then the gate did begin to splinter and crack. A few more rams, and Rorrik was drained, and there was a hole big enough for Rorrik to put his arm through. Then there was a bone-chilling roar from the other side of the gate, and it exploded into pieces of kindling.

Rorrik took the brunt of the force, being thrown all the way back to the Jarl, landing on his back. The other guards were killed instantly, though, the force snapping their necks.

In place of the gate though, stood the largest dragon Rorrik had ever laid eyes upon, made completely of bone. An Draugr Dragon, surrounded by a hundred Draugr-made-whole soldiers.

**Well, it got interesting I hope! Finally, we are to the big war! though I have one problem. I want to write about Beyla more than i want to write about the battle, but i will please you guys by writing about the killing and that good stuff. I find Beyla is now my favorite character because of what i can do with her. Sorry if you don't care for her as much as I do, but later chapters will be entire flashbacks of her and Rorrik. R&R! Alpha out.**

***I am not sure what they would call being carried that way in an old styled world, because they obviously didn't have our current marriage traditions, so i have no other way to describe that. Sorry.**

****I know it's called a femur, not a 'thigh bone', but do you really think they called it that in Skyrim? think realistically people. And I'm saying this because i know someone will bitch about it. Sorry again.**


	9. Bone Deep

**Hey... sorry for the REALLY long wait... I again... hit a giant wall of writers block, so I focused on a new story, and was able to gain so ideas for this from switching catalysts. So, here's some action!**

**I don't own shit from nuthin... I'm poor... Stuff it you rich asses...**

Rorrik scrambled to his feet, pulling his blade out as he did. He heard dozens of swords being drawn in unison behind him. 'We have no chance. Isran only arrived last night. Only a few of the guards will have crossbows, the Imperial reinforcements with our arrows won't arrive until next Mundas, the Orcs will still be gathering, and Paarthurnax...' well he had no idea when he would return.

The dragon and the Draugr just stood there, as if they were waiting. That's when a magic portal of sorts opened to reveal one of the Necromages that was at the Draugr camp.

"Well, Dovahkiin, it seems you are not yet prepared for me. That is... unfortunate. I was hoping for a little bit of fun before I took you to the Ideal Masters," he laughed at the end of this and muttered a word in Dragon language. And the Draugr Dragon lunged for Rorrik.

Its jaws were opened wide as to bite Rorrik in half. He blocked its lower jaw with his blade. It was too strong though, and threw him backwards. Balgruuf caught him before he crashed into the ground. He set Rorrik on his feet and drew his massive battle-axe.

"We will fight this beast together, Dragonborn."

"Aye."

Balgruuf charged the dragon, swinging his axe in a massive arc. It caught the dragon in the snout, making it roar in rage. It raised its head to strike again. Rorrik charged in to take a slice at its neck, cutting a portion of a vertebrae completely off. That was when Rorrik notice Serana charging it, too. She jumped into the air and brought her dagger down on the crown of its skull, burring it deep in the bone.

The dragon shook his head violently, but Serana hung on. She started to cast a fire spell on top of its head, but was knocked off when the dragon used its bone-wings to scrape her off. Rorrik caught her with one arm before setting her on her feet.

"What were you doing?"

"Trying to heat it. If I can get it hot enough on its skull, then we can flash-freeze it, and it will be as brittle as a dried stick."

"Hmm... sounds like a plan then. Get the mages, Balgruuf and I will distract it."

"Right."

She sheathed her dagger and took off. Rorrik circled around to Balgruuf. They took turns at attacking it until it broke off to asses the situation. Rorrik explained what they were going to do.

"Alright, Rorrik. What of the Draugr, though? They haven't budged."

"I'm not sure."

"Well-," and the dragon was on them again. Balgruuf had to use the shaft of his axe to block the dragon, being pushed back several feet.

"Arg! Rorrik! A small bit of help would be greatly appreciated!" Balgruuf roared. Rorrik dashed toward the dragon, raising his blade above his head. When he was near the bone beast he swung the one handed blade down on the vertebrae connecting the skull to the neck, slicing the head clean off. The body of the dragon dropped to the ground with a crash.

"Well... that was... easier than expected," Rorrik said, more than a little confused. Serana arrived soon enough to see this transpire. She was confused, too.

"How... it was so... so strong... What happened?" she asked.

"I... don't know."

"We still have the Draugr to deal with, so if you don't mind, return your focus to the problem at hand!" ordered Balgruuf, a commanding tone clearly ringing in his voice.

"Right."

Rorrik and Balgruuf rushed to the gate and prepared to fight. Rorrik raised his sword to cross his body in a defensive position, while Balgruuf brought his massive axe head beside his body, ready to strike. The guards took up a shield formation behind them, with Gerrall in the center.

They were prepared for a hard battle, but the Draugr just stood there, right outside the gate, twirling their axes and banging their swords on their shields, smiling the whole time.

"Why are they not attacking?" questioned Balgruuf.

"I don't know."

"My Jarl," yelled one of the guards. "What is happening?" Balgruuf turned around just in time to see the dragon, with its head reattached to it's neck, rear it's giant head back, and bite the guard in half.

"By the Nine, how?" yelled Balgruuf.

"The Draugr! They are charging!"

"Damn, it was a trap! We're caught between them!"

"I'll handle the dragon Balgruuf, you and the guards handle the Draugr!" and Rorrik charged. He jumped at the dragon, slicing it across the skull, and combat rolled when he landed. He stood back up and made to stab it in the jaw, but it bit his sword and ripped it out of his grasp. He jumped back to get some distance in between him and the monstrosity.

It rose up on its hind legs, roaring. Rorrik reached for his dagger, when a dozen fireballs impacted the dragon up and down its body, causing it to drop his blade. Rorrik dived for the loose weapon and grabbed it in his left hand. He was directly under the bone beast when it fell back to all fours. He pushed himself to his knees, twisted his blade to the right, and and slashed the dragon across the under section if its spine. That caused it to rear up again, and it was blasted by a dozen more fireballs, causing it to fall on its back. Rorrik looked over to see a dozen mages and Serana standing roughly fifty feet away. She beckoned to him.

He ran over to her side, as she was yelling for the mages to keep it pinned.

"Thanks for the assist," he said, breathing heavily behind his helmet.

"No problem. Just try not to feed the dead dragon next time, and you might not need my help," she responded jokingly.

"Well, it looked hungry."

"Than feed it your blade," she picked up a bundle of cloth of the ground and tore it off, revealing a Deadric greatsword, glowing red in the morning light.

"Right."

**Well... how was the action? Was it improved? R&R plz! Alpha out.**


End file.
